Hero
by BrokenAngelJen
Summary: An accident leaves Adam's spirit separated from his body. While his body lies in a coma in an Angel Grove hospital, his spirit is transported 3000 miles away to a city he's never been before, leaving him wondering if he will ever wake up again...
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Adam or any of the Rangers in this fanfic. They are the properties of Saban. Any and all original characters, however, belong to me.

_**Prologue**_

_November 1994  
Angel Grove  
Adam_

The park is busy. A dozen guys are playing a pickup game of football, a father and son toss a Frisbee between them, and a brother and sister play a game of catch. A bunch of five and six year olds run around engrossed in a game of frozen tag while a family of five sits near the playground having a picnic. The youngest of the family, a girl of about six, leaves the picnic making a beeline for the swing set.

"Stay where we can see you, Stella," the girl's brother calls after her. He looks like he's in his mid-twenties. I watch the family for a moment. The father pulls a ham sandwich out of the wicker basket while her mother takes a sip of her can of Coke. The fifth member, another daughter maybe four or five years younger than the brother munches on an apple. Looking between the six year old and the rest of the family, I get the impression that the two oldest are from one parent's previous relationship. My impression is correct when the brother and sister call the mother by her first name – Diane.

I've been in the park for much of the day honing my martial arts. It's only now I've decided to take a break and take in everything around me. The breeze is light and cool; the leaves of the oak tree I'm sitting under dance along. The sun is high and bright – autumn in Angel Grove. The people in this park, the teenagers playing football; the father and son; brother and sister; the family of five, they are all my responsibility to keep safe.

A few weeks ago I was chosen as Zack Taylor's successor to be the Black Power Ranger. When Rocky, Aisha and I learned Tommy, Billy and Kimberly were Power Rangers, none of us dreamed we would be fighting alongside them. I am honoured to be serving in their company, but I'm still getting used to looking out for more than just my friends and I. Admittedly, I worry that I won't be able to do everything that is expected of me. It's why I've been here as long as I have. Martial arts has always been a way for me to clear my head and think about things productively. Now, it prepares me for impromptu battles Zedd and Rita conjure up.

I get up from my spot at the tree and continue going through the routine. After a moment, I can feel a pair of eyes on me.

Stopping, I turn and am met by the six year old from the family of five.

"How'd you learn how to do that?" she asks. "You're good." She takes a couple of steps closer to me; she brushes a renegade strand of shoulder length brown hair behind her ear and looks at me with curious blue-grey eyes. Her denim overalls are worn and her sneakers are covered in sand, but her long sleeved lavender shirt looks new.

I give her a smile. "A lot of practise."

"I want to learn, but my mommy doesn't want me to; she says it's too dangerous. But I think it's cool."

"It can be, but only if it's used the wrong way," I answer.

"Do you think if I told her that she'd let me learn?" she asks.

"I don't know—"

"I'm sorry." The girl's mother comes up behind her. Diane, I think it was they called her? "I hope she's not bothering you." Looking between the mother and daughter, there is no denying the two are related.

I shake my head. "Oh no, she's not bothering me at all. She can stay and watch if she wants to."

"No, it's okay," Diane says. She takes her daughter's hand and leads her away. "Stella, you know what I've told you about that stuff."

"But I just want to watch," Stella protests.

"And then you'll want to learn and I don't want you involved in that; it's too dangerous."

I watch them walk away. I feel sorry for Stella. All she wants to do is learn martial arts. I do understand where her mother is coming from, but I've always believed in giving something a chance.

Stella runs back to the swing set while her mother rejoins the rest of the family. I watch Stella on the swings briefly; her disdain in her mother's decision is written all over her face. She notices me watching her and gives me a wave. I return it, then continue going through my routine.

My practice is soon interrupted by the sound of frightened screaming behind me. Knots tie up my stomach as my gut tells me the most likely cause.

Turning around, I curse. My gut is right. Lord Zedd has unleashed one of his monsters and a pack of Putty Patrollers. The monster looks like it's been made from a giant mace from the museum. It carries a mace in its hand and it swings it at the kids on the playground. The kids run amidst the group of terrorizing Putties.

The knots in my stomach tighten when I catch sight of Stella still at the swing set; she's been separated from her family by the Putties.

I briefly entertain the thought of morphing, but wonder if I have enough time. The monster is closing in fast. Stella screams for help, calling for her parents. They can do nothing as the Putties force them further and further away from the playground. They beckon to her, telling her to run, but the girl's fear has her frozen.

I weigh my options and decide to morph before engaging in battle. A concoction of instincts and adrenaline kicks in and I make a beeline for Stella.

In the short time I've been a Power Ranger, I have never seen a monster attack a child. Lord Zedd is known to fight mean, but I've never known him to particularly fight _dirty_.

The monster winds up, preparing to unleash its mace. I take the girl into my arms, but with the monster's weapon coming in hard and fast, I know I don't have time to escape the blow. I turn my back to the monster, keeping Stella close and the mace hits me square in the back.

Stella screams, feeling the hit through me – her voice is nearly deafening.

I fall to my knees and tighten my grip on the girl, anticipating a second hit.

It doesn't come.

I hear the familiar voices of the rest of the team behind me.

"Are you okay, Adam?" Rocky is at my side.

Looking up, I nod. "I'll survive." I get to my feet. Kim has taken care of the Putties harassing Stella's family. I turn to Rocky. "I'm going to get Stella and her family out of here."

I don't wait for a reply. With Stella now grasping my neck, I race over to her family and Kim. I tell Kim what I told Rocky and usher the family to the nearest exit.

We reach the park edge and can no longer hear the battle. Stella unwraps her arms from around my neck and I set her down. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yes, thank you so much," the mother exasperates.

Stella turns to me and through the fear still on her face, looks at me, eyes wide in astonished curiosity. "You're a Power Ranger, aren't you?"

I can't help but laugh. "Yes, I am."

With a smile, she turns to her family. "See? I told you they were real," she says proudly.

"Yes and you were right, sweetie," her brother smiles.

"Okay." The father looks at his youngest daughter. "We need to let the Power Ranger do his job."

Stella nods, but steps forward to give me a hug; I kneel down to receive it.

"Thank you for saving me," she says.

I'm thankful my helmet conceals my face; I'm beaming. Now I know I am cut out for this – I am meant to be a Power Ranger. It's for moments like these that tell me I am not doing this in vain. I understand why Kim, Billy and Tommy have done this as long as they have. It's for the thank yous from the families they've helped and knowing they have kept people from getting hurt. I don't think anything is ever going to top the tight hug of gratitude I'm in now. If ever I need encouragement in the future, I'll draw it from this moment right here.

"You're welcome, Stella," I reply.

When she withdraws, a look of recognition crosses her face. Does she recognize my voice from when we met earlier? Is she going to call me on it or just let it be?

Stella's sister puts a hand on Stella's shoulder and the girl backs away.

"Tell the Pink Ranger, and the others, we say thank you," the father says.

"I will," I reply.

The brother hoists Stella onto his shoulders. "Thank you again."

The family turns and starts down the street. Stella turns her head to look at me, yelling out one last thank you and waves at me.

I return the wave and when she turns back, I make a beeline for the playground to return to the fray.

The monster and Putties are gone by the time I get back.

"Are the little girl and her family okay?" Rocky asks.

I nod and relay the father's message to my friends.

Tommy claps my shoulder. "Good job, Adam."

I know to what Tommy is referring. I'm beaming. "Thanks, man."


	2. Chapter 1: Spoilin' For A Fight

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Adam or any of the Rangers in this fanfic. They are the properties of Saban. Any and all original characters, however, belong to me.

**Special Thanks: **To Ace Hart Hunter and my friend, Shannon, for looking beta'ing this chapter and getting it ready for posting. :hugs:

_**Hero**_

_**Chapter One  
**_**Spoilin' For A Fight**

_[~ Well I'm living on a line  
I'm protecting my life ~]_

November 13th, 2008  
Angel Grove, California  
_Adam_

I should have closed the dojo three hours ago. It's now ten o'clock and it's still open. Two of my students, Michael Reynolds and his sister, Jenni, are on the mats. I stand off to the side watching Michael help his sister with her lesson from today. I often keep the dojo open after hours to give my students a chance to work on their skills. Most of them, like Michael and Jenni come from underprivileged, single-parent families. Most don't have a place to go after school other than here, and don't have basements or open spaces where they can practice confidently. They know they are always welcome within these walls and I am more than willing to give up my time to help.

However, I can only stay open – and awake – for so long.

"Okay guys," I speak up. "I think it's time to call it a night."

"Aww, Sensei," Michael complains. "Just a few more minutes?"

I smile. I'm glad they're enjoying themselves. "I'm sorry, Michael, but I've got to close up."

"Okay," Michael relents. He tugs at the yellow belt around his waist.

Jenni kneels down at her bag, looking at me. "Thank you letting us practice, Adam."

"You're welcome, Jenni," I answer. "Do you want some company walking home?"

"We'll be okay," Michael says.

"You sure?"

"I'm twelve," Michael says pointedly. "I'm old enough to look after my sister and me."

I give the boy a smile. He's been trying to prove to his father and myself that he is more than old enough to look after himself and his sister. He's trying to lighten the burden his father has of looking after a very happy, bubbly, mildly autistic eight-year-old. Michael is also a lot more confident now than he was when he first started taking my classes a little over a year ago. After speaking with his father, I decided Jenni would benefit from the classes too. Their father had been worried about the extra expense; afraid he wouldn't be able to pay for both of his children. In response, I've let Jenni attend for half price. I don't mind doing those things; I'm not in this for the profit. If I were, I wouldn't leave the membership prices at $50 a month. Plus, it lets their father have some time to himself after work, knowing he doesn't have to worry about his children.

"Alright," I say, "just don't go through that alley, okay?"

"Why not?" Jenni asks. "You do."

_This is true_. "That's different."

"How?" Jenni asks.

"But it's the shortest way home," Michael protests. "And I told you, I can look after my sister and me."

"I know, but bad things happen in that alley and I don't want you two getting caught in there if something does happen."

Michael nods finally. "Okay."

"I'll see you two tomorrow," I say.

They head for the door. I start to turn for my office when Jenni comes running back.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" She's waving a folded up piece of paper at me. "Sorry my daddy couldn't get it to you two weeks ago."

I take the paper and unfold it. It's a cheque for Jenni and Michael's classes last month.

I kneel down in front of the eight-year-old. "Tell your dad it's okay. Better late than never."

"You're the best!" Jenni wraps me in one of her bear hugs. "See you tomorrow!" She unwraps her arms from around my neck and runs to the door where her brother is waiting.

"Goodnight Jenni," I smile, "goodnight Michael."

"Bye," Michael waves and follows his sister out the door.

That is why I do this. For Jenni's rib-crushing bear hugs, for Michael's confidence, the thank you's from the parents, the reports from the teachers telling me how much better they are doing in school… But above all that, it's seeing the smiles on their faces when they realize they are capable of doing something well, capable of succeeding in an oppressing society. That's where I've seen the majority of change; in their self-esteem and their attitude towards life. It makes me feel good about myself knowing I've been helping these kids and their families.

I lock the front door behind the siblings and continue the initial journey to my office. I put the cheque on Deana's desk with a short note asking her to process it tomorrow. Deana Maloy is one of my assistants. She's a 2nd Kyu Brown Belt and is still learning, but she also helps me teach the White, Yellow and Green Belt classes, while my friend and fellow co-worker, Riley Jackson teaches the higher classes with me. Deana also acts as our financial administrator. She handles all the money coming in and going out, as well as the payroll. I honestly don't quite know how I managed without her in the years before I hired her. She's taken a huge weight off my shoulders.

I quickly get changed; jeans and a black sweater, then grab my jacket from the back of my chair and slip it on. I slide my duffel bag under my desk; I'll only need what's in it tomorrow morning anyway. I pick up my cell phone from my desk and turn it on. My message ringtone informs me I have a voicemail. I'll check it after I leave.

I look around the main hall. The cream coloured walls are in need of a paint job. Maybe I'll repaint them over the Christmas break. The blue mats covering most of the floor need to be cleaned, and some need to be replaced. I make a mental note to add them to the list of things needing to be revamped over the holidays. A few of the cedar pillars also need to be cleaned, and there's a few cobwebs in the open rafters. Maybe I'll recruit a couple of friends to help me clean the place up and put a fresh coat of paint on the walls; a change in colour would be nice too.

Seeing everything in order, I turn off the main lights before doing the same in the office and exiting through the backdoor, locking it. Yawning, I take in a breath of the crisp November air and head for the sidewalk to start the twenty-minute walk home. I pull out my phone to check my message.

"Hey Adam, it's Eugene. I was calling to see if you wanted to join me for coffee, but I guess you're still at work. Maybe tomorrow? Give me a call when you can. Oh, and Amy is making her chicken Alfredo pasta for supper tomorrow night. You know what that means!" _Click._

Yeah, I know what that means: The woman would cook too much. I smile, and after erasing the message, search through my directory. _Eugene Skullovich._

Skull and I have known each other since high school and have been friends since we graduated. Despite our long-time friendship, we only started talking on a regular basis by chance about six years ago not long after he and his wife, Amy, got pregnant with their now five-year-old son, Dylan. He and Bulk opened up a Hawaiian resort theme bar by the lake, which is still going strong, allowing the men to support their families. Skull and I meet for coffee when we can, and are sometimes accompanied by Bulk.

Amy has a notorious habit of cooking too much for dinner, which usually results in a phone call from Skull between 5:00 and 5:30pm asking for last minute company. I love Amy's cooking, so I make the trek over, usually via a ride from Bulk and his wife, Jane, which results in my sharing the backseat with their thirteen-month old daughter, Laurel.

I sometimes find it amusing that the two people I tried to avoid in high school are the two people I find myself having the most fun with on a Friday night.

That's not to rule out the friends I _had_ in high school. I can't count the amount of barbecues Rocky and his wife have invited me to, or how many times Tommy and Kat have asked me to baby-sit their twins, and I see Kim three times a week when she picks up her son – who is also my Godson – from his karate class at my dojo.

Y'know, it kind of makes me jealous. With the exception of Kimberly and Jason, they've all settled down and are happy. Kim landed herself a man who didn't have the word 'responsibility' in his vocabulary and left her pregnant and alone seven years ago, and Jason lost his wife in a horrific car accident three years ago leaving him to care for their then six year old daughter. That's not to say Kim and Jason aren't happy, because they are two of the happiest single parents I know… But out of those who served with me as a Power Ranger, I am the only one without a family of my own…

"Hello?" Skull answers the phone after the third ring.

"Hey Skull, it's Adam. Sorry about the late phone call."

"Don't worry about it," Skull replies. "Amy and I were just watching a movie."

"Okay. I hear you need someone to help you eat supper tomorrow night."

Skull chuckles. "Yeah. You up for the challenge?"

"You know I'm always up to a challenge."

"Alright. Bulkie's coming with Jane and Laurel. I'll get them to pick you up around five."

I can't help but smile. For a man who hated schoolwork (other than music), he sure knows how to organize things. That's probably why Bulk got him to help him with his business.

"Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow. And say hi to Amy and Dylan for me."

"Okay, Adam. Have a good night."

I flip my phone closed and stuff it in my back pocket, when something catches my ears. I freeze, the instincts I'd gained as a Power Ranger kicking into overdrive. I listen intently, searching for a direction, trying to put a name to the sound. It sounds like a—

"Michael!"

_Jenni!_

Concern widens my eyes while a tinge of fear helps me pinpoint the direction.

"Let him go! Let him—"

_SLAP_

"OW!" The familiar sounds of Jenni's sobbing pull my eyes to the alley I don't like my students walking through at night.

"Shut up!" A cruel, cold male voice echoes flatly in the night air. Several different voices create a chorus of laughter.

Anger is quick to move in and take over concern and fear. Not for the knowledge I've been disobeyed. I no longer care about that. My students are in danger. Someone's just _slapped_ Jenni, and I can only imagine how hard Michael is struggling to get out of whoever else's grip.

I break into a hard run; I nearly fall over when I stop quickly at the entrance to the long, alleyway that runs between two dark townhouse complexes. The smell of alcohol almost makes me choke.

Six youths barely out of high school stand close together, yelling and cheering. Jenni is on the ground curled in a near fetal position. Michael's arm is gripped in the hand of a Caucasian male I've seen in the neighbourhood while the others egg him on. Michael beats at the teen with his free hand. Any knowledge of what I've taught him has long since been replaced by fear and desperation.

"Hey!" I step into the alley. "Let them go!"

The teen holding Michael lets him go and the kid stumbles to his sister's side. The siblings look at me and a thankful relief washes over them. Jenni raises her head as I rush to their sides.

"I'm sorry, Adam!" Michael cries. "They were stealing a girl's purse and we—"

"It's okay, Michael," I soothe. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just glad—" My eyes fall on Jenni's face. She's bleeding from a cut on her right cheek. "Jenni, you're bleeding."

The girl puts on a sudden brave face. "It's just a—"

My anger boils over and I stand up, facing the teens still in the alley, watching in sick amusement as Michael comforts his little sister.

"You're a bunch of heartless bastards," I growl. "Who in their right mind hits a kid then laughs? You in this just for kicks?"

A black teen with a small build takes a step forward. "You looking for a fight?" His words are slurred. _Uh oh_.

"Is that a threat?" I ask. The last thing I want to do is get into a scrap. I know their reputations. Not to mention, this bunch is drunk.

"Maybe it is." A female steps out. Her stiletto heeled boots click against the pavement.

I survey the group. Three are Caucasian males with medium builds; two look like brothers, two are black; one towers over the others in both height and size. The female is mixed and is less than five and a half feet tall, but she looks like she can hold her own without too much trouble. I decide this is not a group to tangle with.

"Well, I didn't come here looking for a fight," I say finally. "I came to help these two and now we'll be on our way." I turn and set my hands on each of their backs. "C'mon." I usher them through the alley.

"Hey!" the cold voice from before calls after us. "You can't back down from a fight!"

"Coward!" the girl belittles.

Jenni looks at me. Her brave face has been replaced by fear. "Adam?"

"Keep going," I whisper. "Ignore them."

"Hey, Jeff," another voice speaks angrily, "you just gonna let this guy go? Nobody backs down from a challenge on our turf!"

I cringe and hold my breath. My gut is telling me to hurry up and get out of here. Something else tells me this is about to get ugly.

"Well I'm not!" A slurred voice is right behind me.

A rough hand grabs my shoulder, whipping me around. A closed fist makes hard contact with my jaw before I can react. The force sends me reeling to the ground.

Jenni screams.

I sit there, slightly dazed, rubbing my jaw.

"Adam!" Michael is at my side.

I get to my feet, and turn to Michael. "Go with your sister." He does and I turn to face my attacker. It's one of the Caucasian males. He grins at me and we begin to circle.

"Get him Chase!" one of them yells.

Chase responds by throwing the first punch. I block it easily. He retaliates with an off-course left hook. I duck. He strikes nothing but air. I step back to avoid another wayward punch, then wind up to take a shot at Chase.

"Adam, look out!" Jenni shrieks.

Too late.

A painfully sharp stiletto heel hits my lower back on the right side. The impact sends tingles through my lower back and right hip, and I go down.

A left hook, though sloppy, finds my jaw and I hit the ground. With a quick judge of distance, I whip my right leg around and catch Chase's ankles, breathing through the pain initiated by the stiletto to my back.

I start to get to my feet.

"You're not going to get away with that," Chase's brother slurs. "Nobody touches my brother and lives to tell about it."

I am hoisted the rest of the way. The girl and the smaller black teen have both of my arms. The girl is a lot stronger than she looks.

Before I can muster a way out, a carefully aimed fist makes hard contact with my stomach.

I look up. Jenny and Michael are staring at me, horrified. I take a breath to tell them to run, but I cough instead. Michael holds his sister to him, shielding her eyes. He stares at me in disbelief.

A right hook lands on my left cheek.

I think I know what's going through Michael's mind.

A left upper-cut hits the other side of my jaw.

How could I, Adam, his Sensei, be overpowered by a group of drunk teenagers?

I weasel my way out of the girl's grip. I give the smaller black teen a punch. He nearly hits the ground. Before I can move again, another stiletto finds my thigh as Chase's brother lands a punch to my ribs. A sharp crack has me gasping and I go down. I manage to trip Chase's brother and land a kick to the black teen's shin; they both go down. The pain that ricochets through my ribs is sharp and I pray my ribs have steered clear of my lungs.

I can hear Jenni sobbing and feel Michael's shocked gaze. How could I lose a fight? I never lose a fight…

"Hey Jake," the girl calls. "Finish him off."

The taller of the two black teens comes forward. Now, I don't normally want to crawl into a hole and hide, but just the sight of his guy in my wounded state has me wishing I could.

Breathing through the pain, I try to get to my feet as quickly as I can, but when his steel-toed boot comes in contact with my stomach, I crumple.

"Get up and fight like a man," the teen taunts.

I make another fruitless attempt to get to my feet. My attempt is ended when the girl plants her heel into my side.

But the worst part about this whole thing is, Michael and Jenni have to watch. Well, Michael at least. He is doing a good job of keeping Jenni's eyes covered.

Chase is on his knees in front of me. A right hook splits my lip. A left leaves me unable to see out of one eye. A hit to the stomach has me gasping again. A boot to my side gives me another pair of broken ribs…

The blows continue. They're all coming at me at once now; Chase and the smaller black teen are landing punches while the taller black teen and Chase's brother take turns kicking, occasionally allow room for the girl to strike with her stilettos.

I've lost count how many times their fists and feet have hit me or where. I can't take in deep breaths. I can feel blood running from a cut above my eyebrow. My jaw hurts like hell and I can't move it…

I feel guilty knowing they have to watch, knowing they're too scared to do anything else… watching me lose a fight. I know how my students look up to me. They see me as indestructible, a hero… What good is a hero if he can't win a fight? Not so indestructible now, am I kids?

The assault stops suddenly. I try to get an elbow underneath me, but collapse to the ground in a broken heap. My head is swimming; I feel nauseous, and my vision is blurred. I can barely tell one injury from another. The pain in my legs runs into the pain in my hips and back, which runs into the pain from my ribs, which runs into the pain in my jaw… and I lose track of where it goes from there…

I can hear the teens above me and I pray they leave me here. Leave me unable to move, but alive.

My prayer isn't answered.

The steel-toed boot makes contact with the middle of my back, hard. I writhe. Another kick to the ribs follows. My ribs have to be shattered by now.

A fist drives into my temple, ramming my head into the hard concrete. My head feels heavy and thick, and I can't see at all. I struggle to breathe; my chest burns with every breath and I cough. The pain shooting through my ribs is crippling. I cough again; blood drips onto the pavement.

They say in the moments before your death, your life flashes before your eyes. You relive the moments you wish you could live again, and the moments you wish you could take back. But what if your life is right in front of you, watching your potential death approaching? Those kids are my life. Since I no longer fight monsters on a regular basis, I live for their success… When Michael graduated from White Belt to Yellow, the smile on his face lip up the whole dojo. Jenni had been proud. She looks up to her brother, which adds to his want to prove he is capable of looking after her when their father or I isn't around. What are they going to do if I'm not here?

The steel-toed boot strikes the back of my head with full force.

My name in Michael's screaming voice is the last thing I hear…

Then everything goes black.


	3. Chapter 2: Halloween

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Adam or any of the Rangers in this fanfic. They are the properties of Saban. Any and all original characters, however, belong to me.

**Author's Note: **I apologize for not updating sooner, but Real Life has a tendency to get in the way of things. I hope that my next chapter will not take as long as this one did to make it up here. I thank all of you for your patience and those who have reviewed and commented. I hope you will enjoy the rest of the fanfic.

_**Chapter Two  
**_**Halloween**

_[~ How did I get here? How the hell? ~]_

December 12th, 2008  
Angel Grove, California  
_Adam_

My neck is stiff. I feel as though I've slept for two days and nights without a pillow. Actually, I feel like I really _have_ slept that long. I know I've been known to waste away a Sunday afternoon on occasion, but I've never _slept _it away…

I open my eyes, blinking to rid the drowsiness. I stretch and sit up. I'm staring at the cream coloured walls and cedar pillars of my dojo and I am sitting on a mat in the far corner. It's not uncommon for me to retreat to a corner for a short nap during breaks, but my students are usually sitting in scattered groups of three or four talking and sharing their snacks, and I am usually awoken by Riley, Deana or one of the students. Right now, however, the dojo is empty and the main hall lights are off.

A sliver of light shines under the door heading to the office. Someone is still here. I get to my feet, rubbing my neck trying fruitlessly to get rid of the stiffness. I roll my shoulders in hopes of alleviating the ache. No avail.

I walk over to the door and try the doorknob. It turns and swings open with a soft squeak.

Riley turns around from the photocopier. Dark circles hang under his green eyes and he looks like he hasn't been sleeping properly in a while. His hair is pulled into a lose ponytail instead of the usual tight blonde braid that falls to his mid-back. Renegade strands are tucked behind his ears. But it's not his tired, unkempt appearance that troubles me the most…

His eyes are staring past me in utter confusion. It's like he can't see me.

"Hello?" Riley calls cautiously. He steps away from the photocopier. I move out of his way as he goes to the office door. "Is someone there?"

"Yes," I answer, "me, Adam." I move towards him. "Riley." He doesn't turn. "Riley? What's going on? Why aren't you answering me? Riley!"

Riley closes the office door, shaking his head slowly. He walks over to his desk and sits down heavily. He rests his forehead against his hand and for a six-foot-two largely built man, he seems incredibly small and meek. He adjusts the papers piled haphazardly on his desk. More piles sit beneath the one he just moved. Riley's desk has always been a little messy – a mass of organized chaos as he calls it –, but never like this. It's almost like he could care less about the cleanliness of his workstation.

He puts the papers in a corner and looks over at my desk. Contrary to Riley's, my desk is usually kept clean, but this… there is nothing on my desk, _nothing_, except the couple of pictures of the opening of the dojo. Even the small glass frog Kim had given me three Christmases ago is gone. My desk has been _cleaned_, and not by me. Surely I would remember if I did. Did Deana clean it this morning? But why would she? My desk isn't her responsibility… What the heck is going on here?

"Riley?" My voice wavers. "C'mon, answer me. Ril—"

"How did you do it Adam?" Riley whispers. "How did you manage all these late nights? How the hell did you run this place by yourself?"

Patience and a lot of hard work. But why is Riley working the late nights? He is always the first to leave so he can pick up his nephew from school. Staying late is my job. And speaking of me, why is Riley referring to me in the past tense? I'm still here and this is still my dojo. I don't understand…

I lean over the end of Riley's cluttered desk and wave my hand in front of his face. He doesn't so much as blink.

"Riley!" I call.

Nothing.

I lean closer and accidently knock over one of the piles at the corner of his desk.

Riley's head snaps to the papers gone awry on the floor. I start to bend down to gather them, but the wide-eyed confusion on my friend's face stops me.

"What the fuck?" He stares between his desk and the scattered mess on the floor.

I watch as the confused shock melts into utter fatigue, and he runs his hands over his face. "I think I need to call it a night," he mutters and gets up from his chair. He quickly gathers the loose papers and drops them carelessly onto the middle of the desk. Then he moves past me, heading for the staff bathroom. I follow him. There's no one else here, so he doesn't bother closing the door.

"Riley," I try again. "Can't you see me? Can't you hear me? What's going on? Answer me!"

But he doesn't. He doesn't even flinch.

He does his business then stops at the sink. He cups his hands and fills them with water. He splashes his face.

I stand behind him and call his name several times. Still nothing. I reach out, intending to clap his shoulder.

_Intending to_ are the key words in that statement.

My hand does not land on his shoulder. It goes _through_ his shoulder. The cold feeling of flesh passing through flesh is creepy, like something out of a movie. Like the one with Patrick Swayze that I watched during a sleepover in my Ranger days; _Ghost_ I think it was called.

I try to touch his shoulder again. And again… and again. Nothing. My hand continues going through Riley's shoulder.

"What the hell?" I feel my heart speed up tenfold and fear flowers in the pit of my stomach. "Riley?... Ri—"

Riley's reflection in the mirror catches my eye. It's not specifically his reflection actually, it's what's next to him. More importantly, what _should_ be next to him. Or _who_.

I am standing to Riley's left, but where I should be is the wall behind me.

I feel the colour and warmth drain from my face and I suddenly feel nauseous. What the hell is going on? I know I'm standing just behind Riley and I know I'm here and awake… Why don't I have a reflection?

Riley leaves the bathroom, but I stay, staring into the empty mirror. I'm staring straight ahead, but instead of looking at my own brown eyes, I see the hand dryer and paper towel dispenser on the wall behind me. I pull a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser. In the mirror, it looks like the sheet exited the dispenser by itself. I pull another sheet out; it moves on its own.

No wonder Riley had been so confused when I'd opened the office door and knocked the papers off of his desk. But why can't he see me? Why don't I have a reflection? What is going on?

I exit the bathroom and stand in front of Deana's desk, watching Riley gather his things in preparation to leave. He stuffs his clothes haphazardly into his backpack, yawning all the while. I don't think I've ever seen the man this exhausted.

He picks up his bag and makes a beeline for the door. I follow for sake of not being left alone in the dojo. He opens the door, then turns back suddenly, having forgotten something. I go through the door, hoping Riley won't notice it moving. He doesn't.

I shiver against the cool breeze, wrapping my arms around myself. My sweater is thin and doesn't hold back the cold worth a damn. I wrack my brain trying to think of where I can go. I can't go home; I don't have my keys with me. Kim is out of town with Logan on winter vacation… Rocky's taken his family up to the cabin… the only people I know for sure who are in town and not too far away are Riley – and he can't see me – and the Skullovichs. Maybe Skull will see me. It's worth a shot – it's a long walk to his place, but it's worth a shot at any rate.

I start walking in the direction of Skull's neighbourhood, a fifteen minute drive from here. I'm beginning to wish I had my truck, but I know it's in the underground parking lot of my apartment building and I don't have my keys – something I find rather strange I always have my keys on me.

I take in a deep breath – my lungs seem to cringe at the large amount of cool air entering them – and prepare for a long walk.

I walk a bit faster than I normally would and find myself coming upon Skull's street half an hour later. His house, a traditional white-brick tri-level, comes into view shortly after taking the right turn. The front yard leaves a bit to be desired right now, but once Spring comes, Amy will transform it into a beautifully kept garden. The tall spruce tree in the backyard sways in the wind.

I walk up the front porch steps and press the doorbell button. I hear laughter from inside and looking to the driveway, I see Bulk's burgundy SUV sitting there, complete with Laurel's car seat. Amy must have made her Alfredo and Skull needed help eating it. But wouldn't he have invited me too? He always invites me and he knows I love Amy's cooking…

I hear the deadbolt fall back and I brace myself, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. The door opens; Skull is standing in the doorway. His eyes look heavy and he stands as if something were weighing on him. Confusion sets in as he opens the screen door and pokes his head outside.

"Hello?" he asks. He sounds tired as hell.

"Skull," I call, "it's me; it's Adam."

The man doesn't acknowledge my presence; I don't think he's heard my voice. He turns his gaze in my direction, but, like Riley, his eyes look past me rather than at me.

I reach out to touch him, but again like with Riley, my hand travels through his shoulder. What the hell is going on? What's wrong with me?

"Who is it, honey?" Amy comes up behind her husband.

"Nobody," Skull answers, confusion laden in his voice. "No one's there."

Amy does what Skull did a moment ago – she doesn't see me either when she sticks her head out the door. "Strange…"

"No kidding," Skull sighs.

"You can say that again," I mutter.

"C'mon Eugene," Bulk hollers, "before my daughter decides to try some of your plate. She doesn't have Adam to steal from."

Every time Skull invites Bulk, Jane and I for dinner, Laurel ends up sitting between Bulk and me, and if I'm not careful, her tiny hands find their way to my plate. Her favourite dish to get into is mashed potatoes, which she eats like it's going out of style, but not before making a mess of herself and, more often than not, my shirts as well. I can't count how many shirts have fallen victim to Laurel's small, food covered hands.

But I'm standing on the front porch. If Skull and Amy could see me, Laurel could steal all she wants from me. No matter how hungry I am, I can never finish the portions Amy dishes me.

Skull and Amy both turn their gazes downwards when Bulk mentions my name. It's like Bulk's just said something they don't wish to hear.

"I wish he was, though," Skull mumbles sadly.

"But I _am_ here!" I cry. "I'm standing right in front of you! Skull! Amy! Why can't you see me?"

Neither are fazed by my outburst.

"I know, Eugene," Amy replies. "C'mon – food's getting cold."

Casting one more confused look over the porch, Skull retreats back into the house, closing the door. The deadbolt clicks forward and I'm left standing outside alone.

Defeated, I sit down on the top step of the porch. I don't understand any of what going on. Riley, Skull, nor Amy can see me despite the fact I've been standing directly in front of them. Why? Why can't they see me? Why can't they hear me? Why can't I touch them? Why do they refer to me in third person as if I'm not here? Have I done something wrong? I'm not perfect, but this is a little much. Did I do something to deserve this? Why is this happening?

In my fourteen years of being a Power Ranger, I've encountered some pretty strange and scary incidents – Goldar's Mirror of Regret, Scorpina, Rito destroying our zords, morphing with a broken morpher and nearly non-existent powers… – but none of them compare to this. I've never been as scared as I am now. Whenever I needed help there was always someone ready and willing to give it – I can't count how many times the Rangers I fought alongside kept me safe – but this time, I am on my own. Nobody can help me; nobody can see me. I've never felt so alone before.

I wrack my brain thinking of where I can go. Jason lives on the other side of town, Billy still lives on Aquitar with Cestria, and the Power Chamber isn't even there anymore, nor do I have my morpher or power coin, which I find very odd and disconcerting. I _always_ carry my morpher and power coin – even when it was damaged, I still carried it. Those items are forever a part of my life; they go with me everywhere.

A couple of teenage boys walk by the house. I call out to them. Neither of them look or give any indication they've heard me. I feel my shoulders slump. What's the point of trying to figure out where to go for help if nobody can see or hear me? A walk across town to Jason's to chance he can see me would more than likely prove fruitless. I guess what I really should be doing is finding a place to spend the night.

But where? What would be open after dark? The industrial area is too far away and the school has been closed for hours. I'm beginning to regret leaving the dojo.

My attention falls on the Skullovich's two car garage. Maybe if I'm lucky, the door at the side of the garage is unlocked – Skull has a tendency to forget to lock it.

I stand up and make a beeline for the garage's side door. Trying the knob, I find it unlocked. _Yes_! I slowly push the door open, praying the hinges don't squeak. They don't, and I step inside, quietly closing the door behind me. I am more than grateful for what warmth the garage offers.

I zero in on the lazy boy recliner in the corner. It reminds me of the recliner in the TV show, _Frasier_ – it looks like the one belonging to the father, only Skull's is covered in beer and coffee stains and smells a bit like old beer, car exhaust and Febreeze. One half of the garage holds their minivan while the other is what Skull likes to call his rejuvenation area. It's where he goes when he needs some private time and where many of his "boys only" afternoons are held. The recliner is his throne and no other man dares to sit in it. Skull won't do anything more than order us out of it, but it's his domain and his domain only. Tonight, however, that recliner is mine. I sit in it and pull the lever back; the chair reclines.

I lay there staring at the ceiling. The light from the motion light next to the side door shines through the window. A raccoon must have walked by after I came inside; surely I'd remember tripping the light if I had. The light goes out, shrouding the garage in next to complete darkness.

I wrap my right hand around my left wrist. I wish I had my communicator so I could teleport somewhere warmer than Skull's garage. I wish Zordon were still alive; he'd know what to do. But would he be able to see me or would I be in the same situation I'm in now? I wonder what he would do about what's happening to me. I miss him.

I remember the day I heard about his capture. I'd wished I hadn't given my Turbo Powers to Carlos and my original morpher had worked properly. I had tried to aid in the search for him despite my lack of powers. Looking back, I find it interesting how my work as a Power Ranger continues to follow me. Once a Ranger, always a Ranger. I wish I had my communicator… I wish I hadn't left the dojo… I wish I had help.

A draft comes in from underneath the main garage door; I shiver against it, folding my arms around myself. Looking out the window, I look at what little I can see of the night sky.

Despite being a spiritual person, it's not often that I break down and pray. But tonight, I need to and I hope someone is listening.

"I need help," I speak quietly. My voice seems loud in the stillness. "I don't understand what's going on. Why can't anyone see, hear or feel me? Why don't I have a reflection? Why are my friends talking about me like I'm not here? I don't know what to do… What have I done? Have I done something to deserve this? Why is this happening?" I sigh. I'm at a loss of what to do. "Help me? Please? I need help."

It's not long before I feel sleep begin to overtake me. Despite feeling like I've slept for several days, I've been a bit tired all evening. I guess the stress of what's been going on is catching up.

Curling up in the recliner, I close my eyes, allowing sleep to take me where it wills.


End file.
